


Red in Her Ledger, Red on Her Mind, Red of Her Heart

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Black Widow (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Gen, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4302327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha Romanov has no one to trust. Or, at least, she keeps telling herself that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walls

~~~  
Walls. There are always walls around her. Those to scale, jump over, or build; those that are blasted and pockmarked, rubble really; and those that are made of solid reinforced concrete. The ones you can blast with a daisy cutter or ten thousand sticks of dynamite, and the ones a good strong breeze will knock down and destroy.

She needs these walls around her. Always had them—when she’d worked for the Red Room until the age of fifteen they had stayed strong; packed every day, every hour, every minute, second, instant with more stones, more malleable lumps of clay that she kneaded into the cracks. They bar her emotions, imprison those below all of her duties, the tricks of her trade, the red in her ledger.

On the day she met Clint, when he was poised to kill her but didn’t, cracks appeared in her outermost wall. They spiderwebbed out from the center, like a ripple extending from the place a rock is plunked into a pond. The cracks widened further after she met Fury; when she learned of S.H.I.E.L.D and saw that she could escape her past and do good in the future—though the idea of that crossed her mind infrequently. It kept getting stuck behind walls.

They bashed her shins and bruised her heels, crushing fingers, cracking skulls. At least, that was the way it seemed. She went to Budapest with Clint, saw the world from the good side…yet a wall was still there…barring her from everything but sight. Sight. With that word—Murdock. She remembers him and Bucky too. She loves men and leaves ‘em. What else can she do? The walls rise higher, press closer; bending in her knees, drawing her shoulders down; she sees the wall flying at her face—she can’t move, it won’t stop—she tastes earth, and salt, and cold metal. No, not metal—blood. It’s blood. Her blood. The red in my ledger… No. Stop it now, Natasha. Pull yourself together. I deserve this. No. I’d like to wipe it out. This is the way. There’s an easier way, a better way. She cannot see it—the walls cover and obscure her field of vision. Her blood spots the ground as her nails cut deep into her palms. All of the formidable assassin strength she possesses is, at this moment, in her hands.

Her palms are bruising and scraping against the walls as she stretches out her fingers to uncover the cuts and hold the crushing force at bay. Then, as she closes her eyes, she sees Nick’s face. And Steve’s. Then Pepper’s, Coulson’s, Maria’s. Bruce, Thor, and even Tony—endlessly irritating yet always amusing Tony. Lastly, as she goes to a knee, a metallic CLANG! Stops the wall’s inexorable descent and there is the Winter Soldier. Bucky Barnes, with that lost-puppy look and stubborn glint in his eyes. You here to save my ass? She thinks tiredly. "No. Only you can do that, Agent Romanov. I’m just here to let you know you’re not alone." But she is. She always has been. No matter what she’s done or why she’s done it. Then someone else steps into her line of sight. 

“Wow, Nat. things must be pretty bad if you’re actually starting to believe your own bullshit.”

“Clint. Fuck off, please,” she growls. He kneels down to her eye level.

“No can do,” he smiles at her. “When’s the last time I gave up on you, Natasha?” He has her there. And it’s incredibly infuriating for him to speak her name in that tone of voice, so solemn and gentle and quiet and sure—like he sees and knows everything about her and all of the red in her ledger. The most emotionally intimate she has been with anybody is with him. Agent Clint Barton, who is the last person to let her—or anyone else he cares about—off the hook. Damn it.

But she can do this; he reminds her of that. She bears up under those walls that continually press in around her. It only takes the realization and knowledge of their limits and the effects they have. Such walls, borders, prison boundaries only affect her if she does not stop them. But she does, and she can. That is what speaking to Clint reminds her of, what the sights of her friends highlight in her head. She has always known that she is strong, but it takes a push to make her directly face that immense, intense amount of strength. And she utilizes such strength every day, every hour, every minute, second, instant that she feels pressure from her walls.  
~~~


	2. Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha officially meets baby Nathaniel and has dinner with his family.
> 
> The story Cooper is writing is another work of mine that I wrote when I was ten years old and never completed. Perhaps this fictional character will fare better than I did ;-P

~~  
A few weeks after she and Captain America begin their training regimen with the new Avengers, Natasha is invited to dinner at the Barton house so that she can meet baby Nathaniel in person for the first time. Laura sent an invite to Steve as well, but he politely bowed out, telling Natasha to savor her time with the infant because:

“Babies love me.” She can tell that is a private joke from Cap at his own expense, but also recognizes that he is giving her a mission of his own making—for her to take a breather from their current mission. Nat can read him like a book, and it almost makes her laugh how transparent it is that he’s trying to help her. So is Clint—and Fury too, each in their own way. Well-meaning but misguided; the whole lot of them. Tony even suggested finding her a date and she had to work REALLY hard not to rip his lungs out by counselling herself that Pepper would probably get upset. But Natasha can’t force herself to even CONSIDER that right now, when she still hasn’t the slightest idea where Bruce is.

She walks up to the farmhouse, noticing that Clint has extended the fence again. Probably to stop the cows from meandering into the road. She highly doubts it will work, but finds it hilarious how hard her best friend keeps trying. Even with the things that cannot be fixed by simple means. He doesn’t give up: inviting her to stay, to fight, even to talk—which is proof positive of how much he worries because Natasha’s last resort is to talk about her feelings. Always. Even when Bruce was around, she tried to simply run with it; but somehow he always got her to talk. Now that he’s gone, there’s no point.

She stops remembering and wallowing in that fact when Laura and the two older kids rush out to smother her in hugs. Clint hangs back on the porch, laughing and holding the baby up so that he can see his Auntie Nat from a safe vantage point. The kid is silent and pop-eyed when she bends over him and introduces herself with, “Hi Nathaniel, I’m your cool aunt.”

“The coolest!!” Cooper and Lila yell out in unison. 

“Careful, or you’ll give her a swollen head,” Clint teases. Natasha snorts and attempts to banter back, but her voice is all-too-serious as she replies,

“I promise there’s absolutely no chance of that happening.” Not after my life and what I’ve done with it, she meant. Not after Bruce left, and the miniscule hope she had of being with him had disappeared. Clint doesn’t say anything else other than her name

“Natasha…,” and Laura rubs the assassin’s back gently in an automatic impulse, as though the Black Widow is another of her little ones. If it were anyone else trying to comfort her like that, Natasha would have flipped them over her shoulder and slammed them onto the planks of the farmhouse porch in 2.5 seconds. But this is Laura Barton, her best friend’s wife. Who is her friend too, damn it. So Nat freezes in place and reluctantly lets the woman comfort her against her ironclad will. She then allows both of them to escort her inside.

Clint immediately shows her the room he’s building so that his wife can have a personal refuge for quiet time whenever he is watching the kids. He had Tony draw up some blueprints with several suggestions for sound-proof materials. “Oh I bet he’s lovin’ this, you asking for his help,” Natasha mutters.

“Oh, I didn’t ask,” her friend responds. “He offered. Repeatedly. I don’t know how he even heard that I was remodeling, but he said the only way I wouldn’t end up collapsing my house’s foundation was if I accepted his help.”

“Figures,” she rolls her eyes. “From that smug little shit I’d expect nothing less.” Hawkeye laughs and after a beat she does as well. Little Nathaniel burbles out a baby cry of interest and amusement, prompting Nat to scoop him out of his high chair and carry him over to see his father. The kid holds fast to her, though, even when she tries to hand him off. “He’s a stubborn little booger,” Natasha Romanov says. “Aren’t ya?” Laura smiles as she hands her husband plates so that he can set the table.

“I’d say he approves of our choice,” Mrs. Barton says.

“Damn right he does. It’s an excellent one,” her husband adds. “She’ll be the perfect godmother.” Godmother? Nat’s eyes widen with shock as she looks from one of them to the other.

“I didn’t know you were Catholic, Clint Barton,” she replies slowly, trying to allow those impossible words time to sink in. He grins.

“Well, I wasn’t when we met—let’s just say Laura talked me into it.”

“I’ll say she’s talked you into quite a lot.” Natasha paces, bouncing the baby in her arms a bit. “This is—this is CRAZY, Clint. You know me. You know what I do and what I’m capable of…and yet you want to name me the godmother of your youngest child? Are you out of your mind?!”

“I knew this is how you’d react. Listen, Tasha. Yes, I know you. We both know you. You are smart and strong and capable; perfect for the job.”

“And you’re brave, Natasha.” Laura comes around the kitchen counter now, forgetting for the moment about preparing dinner. “So incredibly brave. I can’t possibly comprehend or imagine all that you’ve been through in your life. But I know—we both know—that you will be a wonderful role model for this child. Just as you are for the older kids.” Right on cue, Cooper and Lila come barreling in the back door from feeding the cows and chickens their own supper.

“Hey Dad, do you need any help?” his son asks in sign language as Clint puts napkins at each place.

“Sure. Thanks buddy. Why don’t you see what everyone wants to drink?”

“Okay. What can I get you, Auntie Nat?” the boy asks, picking up a pad of paper from off of the counter to take her order like a waiter. Nat still feels struck dumb, as though her mind has slowed down since her friend made his proposition. 

“I don’t know, Coop—what do you have?” she stalls as Lila uses the hotpads to help her mother take the chicken divan out of the oven.

“We have Coke, Sprite, milk, water, lemonade, and tea. Also some adult beverages.” Laura stares at her son, aghast. Clint tries—and fails—not to look amused.

“Oh? What kinds of beverages are those, huh?” Natasha asks. Cooper shrugs.

“I don’t know; that’s all I’ve ever heard Dad call ‘em. But can I make a suggestion?” he speaks in a highbrow way. She nods.

“Why certainly, good sir,” Natasha mimics his hoity-toity manner.

“Lil made some great lemonade with a special ingredient and she says you’ll love it!”

“Well I don’t wanna pass that up,” smiles Nat. “What’s the special ingredient, Lila? Will you give me a hint?”

“I can’t, silly; then it won’t be a surprise!” 

“Oh well I guess I’ll just have to TICKLE it out of you then!” The Black Widow widens her eyes at Cooper before leaping up and grabbing playfully at Lila, who screams in delighted terror as they begin chasing each other around the kitchen. Cooper joins in the fun, as does Nathaniel, lending his giggles from where he is strapped once more into the high chair.

“All right, settle down, you crazy animals!” calls Laura. “Dinner is ready! Go on and wash up—you too, Hawkeye,” she scolds her husband, who is sneakily sitting at the table already. 

“What about Nathaniel?” he returns all innocence. “Somebody has to wash him.” She sighs.

“Nice try, but I’ll do that with this!” she brandishes a wet washcloth, and as he rises, lightly smacks him on the butt. “Now go make sure Nat and the kids haven’t started a water war, or the food will be cold by the time you get back down here.” Natasha and the kids had charged upstairs after she yelled at them.

“Yes ma’am.” He kisses her before going to perform his duty. All four get back to the table in a timely manner, amazingly. “All right, who’s saying the blessing tonight?” Clint looks around. “Laura?” she shakes her head.

“I think it’s Cooper’s turn.”

“Lila’s, since I ordered everybody’s drinks.”

“But I MADE the drinks today, so you can say Grace, Cooper.” Offers his little sister.

“Okay,” he smiles. “Everyone bow your heads.” 

“Don’t you hold hands for this? Or is that not a thing?”

“Do you WANT to hold hands, Natasha?”

“I don’t really CARE—it was just a question. I don’t know the proper etiquette.” She makes a face at her best friend.

“Tonight, we’ll hold hands,” Clint announces, seriously reaching over to grab his baby son’s tiny fist. Laura smiles and Nat rolls her eyes. “Go ahead, Coop.”

“Okay. Dear Lord, we thank you for this day and this food. Thanks for bringing Auntie Nat to stay with us for a few days. It’s always fun when she comes. Thanks to Mom for always taking care of us and Dad for teaching us things. Bless the people who aren’t here with us, like Auntie Nat’s team; and bless those who are traveling, like Doctor Banner. And bless this great nation we live in. Amen.”

“Amen,” intone(s) everyone.

“Good job with the blessing, buddy.” 

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Cooper is our wordsmith. I’m pretty sure I’ll go in his room one morning and he’ll have written a book.”

“Are you writing a book right now, Cooper?” asks Natasha, trying not to think too hard about the traveler mentioned in the blessing. Cooper pushes his food around on his plate. 

“I haven’t really written much; it’s this story about a kid who lives on a farm in this small desert town.”

“The people are all gone?”

“Why would all the people be gone?!”

“He said it was deserted!”

“Clint, you idiot, he said the town is in a desert. Right, Cooper?”

“Right, Auntie Nat. Anyway, this kid goes walking in the desert one day…”

“…and dies of heatstroke.”

“Clint!” his wife gasps, horrified. “Don’t say that!”

“Well what’s he doing walking in the desert by himself?”

“I’m sure our son will tell us. Go on, Cooper.”

“Thanks, Mom. He doesn’t go that far into the desert, because there’s an oasis. He walks under some shady trees and something falls out of one and hits him.”

“That seems pretty sneaky of ‘em!” Clint is laughing. “Get it? The trees are shady!” Both his wife and daughter glare at him this time. “I’m sorry. Continue.”

“So anyway, what fell on his head was a horn. It’s smooth and feels full of some sort of liquid when he picks it up. There’s a hole in the middle of the wider end, and it’s stopped up with a cork.”

“A cork?” Nat’s eyebrows have risen. Are they SURE this kid doesn’t know the true contents of grown-up drinks? She sips her lemonade and continues listening.

“So, um, he shakes it, the boy, and hears water or something sloshing around. And he’s thirsty, so he opens it up and smells the stuff inside. It smells sweet, like fruit. He pours some on the ground and then on his hand to see if it’s corrosive.”

“Corrosive?”

“Acidic. Poisonous. I know a kid shouldn’t just drink some weird horny liquid!” Clint spits water and Natasha chokes on her food. “What?” Cooper asks. Now it is Laura’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Juveniles. Don’t worry, sweetie. Ignore them. He tests the liquid and then what?”

“Since it didn’t do anything bad, he takes a drink.” Lila gasps in consternation. “Don’t worry, Lila, it doesn’t hurt him. He keeps on walking through the oasis, drinking more, and doesn’t realize he’s finished it all until he gets tired and stops in a clearing. He can’t keep his eyes open and falls asleep. Wakes up a while later and as he stretches, he sees talons on the tips of his fingers. His forehead itches so he touches it and feels horns. Now he’s freaking out, and spots a pond in the clearing and looks down into it. And he sees…that he’s been transformed into a dragon! Partly. He has wings, horns, claws, and a tail too; otherwise he’s got a normal boy body. ‘The drink must’ve done this to me’ he thought. And if you think THAT part’s weird…” the Barton boy takes a breath, “he later meets a giant squirrel girl. And his next door neighbor is a Cyclops.”

“What’s a cyclops?” His younger sister wants to know.

“It’s usually somebody big and burly,” Natasha says in reply, “who has only one eye.” Lila considers this information for a second.

“Oh. Like Mr. Fury?”

“Kind of like Mr. Fury, yes,” Laura exclaims as her husband guffaws. Natasha chuckles too. She hasn’t heard anything said quite like that about her old boss before. But it’s sort of true.

“That sounds like a cool story, Cooper. I can’t wait to read it whenever you’re done.”

“Sure thing, Auntie Nat. Thanks.”

“No problem.” The happiness in his eyes makes her think about what her friend had said earlier: ‘you will be a wonderful role model for this child. Just as you are for the older kids.’ It floors her that she could seem so awesome to these kids; no matter that she knows she will do her damndest to make sure they all can have normal happy childhoods, but to have them appreciate her so much…Lila refills Natasha’s lemonade glass and smiles with so much love and trust in her eyes that the assassin almost cannot bear to look. She swallows a forkful of chicken, bread crumbs, broccoli, rice, and cheese and says “This food is great, Laura. Thank you for inviting me.” 

“Of course, Nat. You know that you’re always welcome here with us.”

~~


	3. Baring Her Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha opens up to Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read about an interview with Joss Whedon where he said that he wanted Spider-Man and Ms Marvel to be on the secondary team of Avengers, but was unable to do this in the movie due to scheduling conflicts. So, I took the liberty of putting them on the team myself.

~~  
“How’s the rest of the team?” Clint asks, coming to stand next to his best friend on the back porch as Laura and the two older kids clean up the kitchen.

“It’s weird, with Tony and Thor being gone. I guess Bruce was the glue that held us all together, and after he left…no one else wanted to stay. I didn’t really want to stay; I just didn’t have any place to go.”

“You just couldn’t leave Cap alone, right?” Nat rolls her eyes and snorts.

“Please. He and Sam and Rhodey would probably be having dancing and drinking extravaganzas every night if I wasn’t there to keep them in line.”

“The Vision can’t do that?”

“He’s too innocent to realize that drinking can be a problem. Spidey is too busy making cow eyes at Marvel to do much, and Witch…” Natasha stops there. She doesn’t voluntarily talk about Wanda Maximoff. The mind-control thing still hits her pretty hard.

“How IS the kid?” Asks Clint after a beat. “She still holding up okay?”

“She’s fine. And I don’t know why you keep calling her a kid; Miles and Kamala are both younger than she is.” Clint doesn’t respond, his hazel eyes staring steadily into Natasha’s face. She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “She’s solid. Dependable. Constantly saying this is her job now. Which is a little too goody-goody if you ask me. I think she’s plotting something.”

“She’s hurting, Natasha. She lost her brother—because of me. I wouldn’t be too hard on her; if avenging is what she has to do to keep herself going, good. But it can’t hurt for her to talk or…something.”

“If you’re trying to get ME to talk to her, you’d better bark up another tree, Clint Barton. I’m not going to have anything to do with that witch other than what I have to teach her. And Pietro’s death wasn’t your fault; he CHOSE to save you, when he could’ve just as easily stayed on the airship. We wouldn’t have blamed him if he hadn’t tried.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” He sighs explosively and shuffles his feet. “What I’m saying, Natasha, is that I think talking to her specifically might be good for you. You both lost someone really special to you. You both have a lot holed up inside your heads. Maybe it’d be good to let some of that stuff out.”

“Yeah, maybe so, but HER loss isn’t as bad.” Hawkeye takes a step back. His eyes have widened.

“How do you figure that?” She lets out an irritated huff of breath. 

“Do I have to spell it out for you?! Bruce CHOSE to leave, Clint! Pietro didn’t. He saved you and that little kid despite the possible consequences. He was brave. Hulk wasn’t. He left us—all of us—behind because he couldn’t deal with it. Any of it. Nah, that isn’t even the half of it. He didn’t WANT to deal with it.”

“Natasha—”

“Don’t try to pacify me, Clint! I opened up to him!!!” she is shouting and has started crying. “I ripped my heart out and showed it to Bruce—since I don’t have a soul anymore—I told him about the graduation. The ceremony. I told him…I was barren, that he wasn’t the only monster on the team. And he didn’t say a thing in reply. Not. One. Damn. Thing.” She is shaking, and Clint comes over and grips her in a fierce hug, squeezing the daylights out of her and refusing to let go.

“Oh, Tasha, of course you do. Of course you have a soul.” She half-chokes on a laugh that is nearly hysterical.

“Is that all that you can say? All that you care about? The fact that I have a soul?! I don’t, I know I don’t; everything is dark and cold inside me. I’m a monster, Clint. I can admit that. The thing about Bruce: he won’t admit it. He acts like it isn’t him, like the Hulk is a separate personality or something. But he has to know. It’s the only way he’ll ever be able to find peace—if he connects the two halves.”

“Maybe he’ll do that when he’s on his own and then he’ll come back to you—to the team.”

“But that’s just IT, Clint, I could help him!!! If I was with him, wherever he is now, I could keep him grounded, get him together. I was so close to it with Hulk. Every time I did the Lullaby, it got easier. He came back quicker. That last time…before we all got shot at…the connection the two of us had was almost instant. When he picked me up and laid me on the ship—he was Bruce. I felt it. He was Bruce when he broke off the communication too. That’s what I’ve been saying. The person who left was HIM.”

“And the person who can choose to come back to you—and to all of us—will also be him, Nat. Don’t give up hope.”

~~


	4. Lonely Is The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later the same night.

~~  
Later that night, Natasha carefully descends the front stairs—no matter how often Clint fixes ‘em, there is always at least ONE that creaks—after tossing and turning for over an hour. The bed is comfortable and the sheets are perfectly clean . . . Laura somehow keeps a spotless house despite who her husband is.

No, it’s just . . . the last time she had stayed overnight in this house, it had been with Bruce beside her. Tonight, no matter how many quilts she piles upon herself, Natasha Romanov cannot get warm. And this isn’t helping, she sitting on the steps of the front porch, staring out into the darkness and listening to the insanely raucous crickets chirp. Nat is trying desperately not to think of anything, anything at all; just to sit in the cold, but then a warm hand closes around hers and she jumps to spot Lila now sitting beside her.

“Jeez, you scared the crap outta me, Lil! Did your dad teach you how to sneak up on people like that?!”

“Sort of. But even though I wanna be a spy someday, I wasn’t trying to scare you, Auntie Nat. I knew you were awake and was just coming to say hi.”

“Well, hi, monkey.” Natasha gives Lila a tight side hug. The little girl is wearing her fleece Curious George pajamas—which is one reason for her nickname. Lila giggles before becoming serious again.

“Why ARE you awake, anyway? Isn’t it tiring to be a spy?” The Black Widow laughs in astonishment at how astute her niece is.

“Yeah, it is tiring, I guess. But I can’t go to sleep because I’m worried about someone.”

“Oh. Why are you worrying about them? Are they sick?”

“Not really; sometimes they go a little green . . .” She imagines a wry snort from Bruce at that, “. . . but then he’s as happy as a clam. At least, he used to be. Now I’m not sure. He’s been gone for a while.”

“But he’ll come back, right? He just wanted to travel?”

“I don’t think he WANTED to; but maybe, yeah.”

“Why would he leave if he didn’t want to go?” Lila leans away to look at her aunt curiously. Natasha sighs through her nose. What can she say? How can she possibly even begin to explain Bruce’s motives to this inquisitive kid?

“You know how your dad has to leave sometimes to fight bad guys?”

“Yeah, and he helps YOU fight bad guys!!”

“Yes, he does. And he’s very good at it, too. My friend who left, that I’m worried about . . . doesn’t like to fight; he can’t stand hurting people. He’s what’s called a pacifist, Lila.”

“A pass-if-ist?” The little Barton girl repeats, sounding out the unfamiliar word slowly, a crease forming in the middle of her forehead. “That’s not BAD, is it?”

“No, it’s not bad. It’s—impressive, actually. Brave. Bruce is brave in a way that I wish I could be.” As she says it, the agent realizes it is true. I envy him for making that choice and being able to stick to it—come hell or high water. She comes to terms with Bruce Banner’s altruism right then and there sitting on the steps next to Lila. Lila, who says,

“Don’t worry, Auntie Nat. You’re awesome and PLENTY brave, just like your friend. And, um . . .” she pulls on Natasha’s sleeve. “He’s Bruce, like Bruce Banner, isn’t he?” Nat’s eyes widen. 

“Good deduction, Lila! Forget becoming a spy—you can be a police investigator.”

“Really?!” She squeaks in excitement.

“Really. And a good investigator needs to be strong of mind and body. She needs calcium intake to build strong bones. And what’s a better source of calcium than ICE CREAM?”

“Nothing!!!” Agrees Lila as they rise to return inside. After shutting the screen door behind them both, here comes Cooper:

“Did someone say ice cream?”

“Oho! Look who decides to show up just for a late dessert! Is there enough for him to have some, do ya think?” Lila looks up at her big brother, who gives her his deluxe pleading puppy-dog eyes, and smiles.

“Sure, Auntie Nat. There’s definitely enough.” Getting out bowls, Natasha sighs theatrically.

“Fine. You’re SUCH a pushover, Lils. And I love ya for it.” The three share a hug; after Cooper notices Natasha and Lila hugging, he gets in on the action. 

After they eat three giant ice cream sundaes and quietly! wash out the bowls, Natasha carries her niece and leads her nephew up to bed. And after she returns to the guest bedroom, she falls soundly asleep and has no distressing dreams.

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter put me in mind of a song. The whole story does, actually, but this chapter really got me thinking about it. The song is called "Lonely Is The Night" and is written and sung by Billy Squier. Lyrics are below:
> 
> Lonely is the night  
> When you find yourself alone.  
> Your demons come to light  
> And your mind is not your own.
> 
> Lonely is the night  
> When there’s no one left to callll  
> You feel the time is right  
> To say the writing’s on the wall, yeah.
> 
> It’s a high time to fight when the walls are closin’ in  
> Call it what you like—it’s time you got to win;  
> Lonely, lonely, lonely—your spirit’s sinkin’ dow-wn  
> You find you’re not the only stranger in this town
> 
> Red lights, green lights, stop and go, drive;  
> Headlines, deadlines jamming your mind  
> You’ve been stealin’ shots from the side  
> Let your feelings go for a rii-iide!
> 
> There’s danger out tonight—the man is on the prowl.  
> Get the dynamite…the boys are set to prowl!  
> Lonely is the night when you hear the voices call,  
> ‘Are you ready for a fight? D’you wanna take it all?!’
> 
> Slow down, showdown—waiting online  
> Showtime, no time changing your mind  
> Streets are ringing, march to the sound  
> Let your secrets follow you downnn!
> 
> Somebody’s watchin’ you, baby—so much you can do  
> Nobody’s stoppin’ you, baby, from makin’ it too  
> One glimpse’ll show you now, baby, what the music can do  
> One kiss’ll show you now baby—it can happen to you…
> 
> No more sleeping, wastin’ our time;  
> Midnight creeping’s first on our minds.  
> No more lazing ‘round the TV;  
> You’ll go crazy—come out with meee
> 
> Hey hey hey! See it’s lonely around!  
> (Lonely is the night)  
> It gets a little bit lonely about  
> (Lonely is the night)  
> Lonely, lonely, lonely… [fade out]


	5. At Avengers Tower Mark Two

~~

Natasha has had some time to get used to the idea of being a godmother—at least, slightly. Clint kids her about there being a ton of paperwork to fill out, but she just shrugs and says she’s gotten used to that while working for SHIELD. Anyway, she’s going to do all she can for little Nathaniel Pietro Barton, just as she will for the rest of his family. Realizing that is his middle name, Nat grows quiet. 

She has thought a little about what Clint had said to her the night before; that she and Wanda Maximoff have quite a lot to talk about . . . if Natasha can bring herself to do it.

~

Clint has gone to New Avengers headquarters to drop off something (he says) though what he plans to be dropping off is sympathy and advice. He pops in to wave at Rhodey and Sam, who are trying to teach Vision how to shuffle a deck of cards; the poor giant robot-man can’t seem to get the hang of it. Rhodes waves and Sam signs ‘hello’ with his hands.

“Hey, Rhodes. Hi, Sam. How’s it hangin’? Or, in your case, flying?” He asks the Falcon, who shakes his head and rolls his eyes, having dealt with Clint’s begging to borrow his wings plenty of times already. 

“My life is perfect without Tony here to cause an undue amount of stress over everything,” says James Rhodes after rising and shaking hands with the Hawk. Clint smiles. He knows how much the War Machine misses Tony—despite how complicated Stark seems to make things, he and the colonel have always been great friends. Without Tony to check on, Rhodey seems slightly lost.

“If you want a NEW sort of stress in your life,” Clint says in an undertone, “You could try checking in on Natasha every once in a while.” Rhodey’s eyes widen in consternation. Agent Romanov scares him. Not Sam, who has heard the turn in the conversation:

“Oh I will DEFINITELY check her out—I mean, check in on her. Can always give her a back rub to get out all the kinks.” Rhodes raises his eyebrows and sighs, his face smoothing into that inscrutable expression that is TOTALLY Rhodey.

“All right, man, but don’t come crying to me when she rips your wings off and beats you with them.” Grins Sam,

“Who says that’s something I haven’t planned for?” Clint laughs uproariously and Rhodes puts his head in his hands. 

“Speaking of stress, do either of you guys know where I can find Wanda Maximoff?” Sam stops looking so completely satisfied with himself and Rhodey takes his head out of his hands.

“Man, I still haven’t figured that one out,” Rhodes says quietly. He glances over at Sam, who shrugs.

“When we aren’t practicing avenging, I don’t know where she goes.”

“And you don’t ask? Neither of you?” The disappointed look on Clint’s face makes Rhodey’s voice harden when he says,

“Look, man, I don’t need your disapproval, all right? I’ve had to deal with Tony’s PTSD from both the wormhole AND the powers of that girl’s mind, so excuse me for not making the greatest amount of effort to be charitable.” Adds Sam,

“And no one really even ASKED Steve how HE was doing after the whole mind thing—I don’t blame any of you guys; you had a lot on your brains . . . no pun intended—plus, it’s my job to learn things like that, to get veterans to talk. I know none of you probably want to hear this—” he makes eye-contact with both men and then glances at The Vision before deciding to say it anyway. “—but the great straight-edged in-control Captain America is none of those things at all, actually. He’s buried his problems so deep down inside him that it’s taken me a five-foot shovel dig every day to get to them. Sometimes I only unearth one; and then other times I cause an avalanche of a plethora of shit that piles up so it seems like he’s choking on it. He can’t find a home because he doesn’t FEEL at home here.”

“Well, that makes a little bit of sense,” says Clint after a moment. “He IS a man out of time, after all.” Sam Wilson shakes his head.

“That’s not all of it, though. I think Steve would feel out-of-place even if he came home after his war and had to live through the intervening decades with all of his baggage. And he’s got a lot of it. Part of that is because Steve Rogers is one of those guys who will try to deal with your problems for you because he just wants to help; but he doesn’t get that that mentality isn’t helpin’ him.” Clint Barton looks at the floor and James Rhodes nods.

“Understood. I might be able to talk to him, being an active military man and everything. I know it’s a lot less than you can do, Sam, but he should know that all of us are here for him.”

“Yeah,” Clint echoes. “And I have a bit of experience working with head-case agents.” For a moment he pauses. “Better keep me up to speed on this stuff, guys. I’ve got both of your personal numbers.” He winks and disappears into one of the hawk nests that were built into this facility out of hope—or force of habit, he’d guess. Rhodes and Sam look askance at each other.

“Hang on; did he just say he has our personal numbers??? BOTH of them?”

“He worked for SHIELD; I’m pretty sure Nick Fury had access to all kinds of information.”

“Yeah, but somehow I doubt Clint Barton needs Nick Fury’s expertise or permission to do much of anything.”

“Touché.” 

~

Climbing through the scaffolding of the new building, Clint keeps a sharp eye on every room he passes through. It is in the third one he first spies someone—Miles Morales, young Spider Man, peering down wistfully at Kamala Khan who is cooking a Pakistani dish and Skyping with her parents. Clint smiles and makes sure he doesn’t startle the kid too much when he crouches next to Miles. Spidey jumps nevertheless, and his eyes widen—he doesn’t have his mask on inside the place—as he recognizes who it is.

“H-hello, Mr. Hawkeye, sir. What are you doing here?” stammers Miles. Clint smiles.

“I’m here because I smelled something good, of course. Why aren’t you down there with her?” Miles gulps.

“No way; she’s talking to her parents and she doesn’t want the company of a . . . kid anyway.” Clint shakes his head disagreeably.

“Miles, you can’t think of yourself like that; if you do, you’re giving Marvel the excuse to treat you like a kid. Besides, I for one think she’s too nice to do that. Go and keep her company, hey?” Miles sighs.

“She is a marvel, isn’t she?” Clint’s eyebrows rise.

“Of course she is. And you should tell her that. The first step is simple—TALK. Hey, Kamala!” he hollers down to her. “That dish smells really good. What is it?” The Pakistani girl smiles up in his direction.

“Thanks, Mr. Clint. It’s called Chicken Karahi. It’s a traditional dish my mum taught me to make.”

“You got enough for a couple of doggie-bags?” He asks. She nods. “I’d love to take some to my wife and kids. Oh, and Miles says he’d like some too, if that’s okay.” She looks shocked.

“Of course it’s okay! Come on down here, Miles! Why are you hiding up there anyway?”

“I was—practicing my stealth skills.” He squeaks. She laughs.

“Of course. I’ll scoop some for you, and you too, Hawkeye. Come back by before you leave today.”

“Thanks, Kamala.” Clint says to her, and winks at the Spider boy, who blushes. “Told you, Miles. Hey—if you’ve been acting so stealthy, do you know where Wanda Maximoff might be?”

“Umm . . . last time I saw her, she was in the observatory.”

“Thanks, Miles. Hasta la vista, mi hermano!” Clint says in elementary-school Spanish. Miles groans good-naturedly as Hawkeye once more disappears.

~

Wanda Maximoff sits facing the wall without windows, its bare grey-white cinder blocks as blank and hard as her mind and heart have been since Pietro died. Her face seems as though it’s become permanently pale, or that might be the way the harsh light is shining on her. All Clint knows is—as he looks through the porthole in the observatory’s upper door—that her limp, apathetic form tugs harshly at the strings of his heart. He doesn’t know what to do, except that he really wants to help her . . . and then Wanda blinks and raises those dead eyes and sees him, he thinks, so he has to push open the door and go in there to talk to her.

“Hey, Wanda,” Clint greets the girl hesitantly. “Been a while.” She stands up quickly, dangerously, like she can’t believe it’s him; or maybe she simply wants to beat the living shit out of the guy who’s the reason her brother isn’t alive anymore. Hawkeye doesn’t know, but he’s completely bamboozled when her lower lip trembles, her eyes fill with tears, and she flies across the space to fling her arms around him and sobs.


	6. An Unexpected Guest At The Bartons'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am including lyrics from the wonderful song "Swingin' On A Star" sung by the irreplaceable Bing Crosby in this chapter.

~  
Natasha is splitting wood along the far side of the farmhouse when she sees Clint’s car turn in at the end of the long gravel driveway with its many hilariously forbidding wooden signs warning people to KEEP OUT and TURN BACK NOW and RABID COWS EVERYWHERE! written in childish and messy hands; his doing as much as his children’s, she supposed. His music is blasting—not as loud as Tony’s always was, thank the gods of Asgard for that—but still plenty loud. But it isn’t the normal eighties hip-hop and nineties rap that he listens to try to stay “current”—it’s big band music. And is that the crooning voice of Bing Crosby? "Ohh would you like to swing on a star, Carry moonbeams home in a jar? And be better off than you are, Or would you rather be a mule? // A mule is an animal with long funny ears; He kicks up at anything he hears . . ." Nat cannot help but smile; only one person in the world could make Clint change the radio station in his car, and that would be

“Captain America,” she says grinningly as he steps out of the car. “Nice monkey suit. What gives?” He pulls awkwardly at the knot in his tie and makes a face.

“Yeah, yeah, hilarious as always. Hello, Natasha. I wanted to look presentable since the Bartons invited me to dinner tonight.” Clint snorts as he gets out of the car.

“I asked him who died for him to wear that suit, and he said some shit like ‘looking presentable is a compliment to the people and the place he’s been invited to’. Personally I just think he’s used to making us run-of-the-mill assassins look bad.” Her friend winks at her as Steve looks slightly flustered.

“Oh now, hang on, I never said you were run-of-the-mill assassins, Clint. I just said maybe your takedowns could use a bit of work.” Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, really, Steve? You think so?”

“I—” He whips his head to look over at Clint, and then back at her. Then he plants his feet and smiles slightly. “Yes I do, Natasha.” She nods and sends a fist toward his face. When he raises his arms up to block her, she launches her leg at him, wrapping it around one of his knees before whipping downward, her hand flat on the solid ground, and uses her center of gravity to yank him sideways and into the dirt before rolling away and standing up, wiping her palms on her jeans.

“Incidentally, you might be right. I DO need to work on my takedowns.” She leans down to stare directly into his eyes. He looks up at her with his eyes sparkling, shrugs, and smiles.

“Touche. I may have been wrong about that. I apologize.” His words are so earnest and sincere that Natasha Romanov rolls her eyes.

“Come here, you dumbass,” she cannot help saying, and his eyes widen in shock at her language even as he accepts her hand to pull him out of the dirt. He looks down at his now rumpled and dirty suit ruefully. 

“I really should work on the timing of my jokes,” he mutters. Nat snorts and nods.

“Yup, and that’s why I called you a dumbass, America boy. Are we going in?” She looks over at Clint, who suddenly seems slightly shifty. “What, is the name I called Steve bothering YOU now too?” He shakes his head slowly as Steve looks from one of them to the other quizzically.

“Um, no. Natasha, I invited someone else to dinner, and I need to stay out here to wait for them in case they get lost.” She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows.

“And why wouldn’t you just tell me that right at first?” He winces and won’t meet her eyes.

“Because—it’s someone I know you’d really rather not see.” Natasha feels her stomach lurch. Who is it? Could it be Bruce? She looks over at Steve, trying to read in his eyes what he thinks about this. Steve Rogers may be good at many things, but a poker face is not one of them. She can tell almost everything he is thinking. Right now he seems concerned, but more confused about Clint’s tiptoeing approach to the subject. Natasha is just plain irritated. She throws her hands in the air and shouts, 

“Just TELL me, damn it, Clint Barton! I’m the Black Widow. I’m sure I can handle it.”

He looks into her eyes now and breathes deep. “Nat, I invited Wanda Maximoff to dinner tonight.”

There is complete silence before the sound of a body being slammed into the muddy ground reverberates around the barnyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Augh it took me SO LONG to write and post this chapter, many apologies to those who've read the rest of this story!
> 
> I can't figure out where to go next specifically; suppose I could write out the meal with Natasha sending many venomous and irritable looks in both Clint's and Wanda's directions . . . but I don't know. 
> 
> If anyone has suggestions, feel free to comment on this piece! And again, thanks for reading!


End file.
